I lost my favorite pen. I looked away for just a second and then it was gone. I don’t know how it happened, it was just gone.
I miss the way it writes, the ink was pure, the tip was sharp, I felt comfortable with it.
I keep losing other things too. My smile, my laugh, the way I used to talk to my Mom, friends, the boy that friend-zoned me. They were all just gone.
So when I lost that pen , I remembered all these favorite things that I lost. And I started to cry.
Because now I have to settle for a dull pencil I found on the ground.
I’m always losing my things and it sucks so I really feel for this
I hate losing things, really brings to attention how much you like them once you tear your room apart looking for it
dang this was amazing but also so freaking sad like little things carry big memories
Sending love, that really is the worst feeling </3
this reminds me of two things:
the art of losing (a poem) and a quote – “no ideas but in things”
i love how it was so small (a pen), but incredibly large (the other things you lost) – you blended them beautifully